When It's One Or The Other
by Scare4irony
Summary: It's always going to be one or the other in danger, it just depends on the timing.


AN: Firstly I would like to thank the Tribble Master for allowing me to do this. This is Sam's POV. It's a counter to the Tribble Master's story True Lies which is in Dean's POV. So this is set in season 1 and remember people read TRUE LIES - by the Tribble Master because this is completely her idea.

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**WHEN IT'S ONE OR THE OTHER**

He's bleeding to death and my words have no real meaning...I hate myself for it and he knows it.

"It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay," I repeat

He smiles in vain. Dean's glassy eyes concentrate on my mouth. "S'not gonna be okay this time..." he gurgles slowly. Blood and spit slowly inch down his mouth as his lungs fill with blood.

_You can't leave me. _I pull him in closer to my chest. Tears fall and disappear into the hair of my brother. "It will," I promise. He nods once but doesn't rear his head back up. Limply his head stays down, breathing becoming shallower by the minute...

**?_?**

The moaning is horrible and hurts my ears but the screaming is driving me insane. Of course, being Dean, he needs no help at all. _"I'm fine...Don't say anything, you make me sound like such a wuss...Nightmares? What am I four?" _Stupid bravado, I can see right through him. I can see when he hurts. I can tell when he's thinking of all the horrible things he may have done in the past, or what he yearns for the future. I'm fine my ass!

I walk over to his bedside and grab his flailing arms. His whole body is quivering with fear, trying to fight its way out of his hellish prison of a nightmare.

He snaps his eyes open at my touch. "What?" he asks roughly looking down at my hands that are still clamped around his wrists

"Nightmares?" I ask softly, releasing his wrists.

Dean looks up at me with flashes of pain and fear dancing across his eyes. "No." He cranes his neck around to check the small wooden table in the centre of the room. "Did you at least make coffee before waking me up?"

Unsure of whether to let this go or not, I step back into the middle of the room, "It might be cold." I don't know what else to say. "I got up an hour ago."

"Any more attacks?"

"No, lucky for us."

Dean nods strongly and gives me his stupid grin. "I'm gonna find me some pie." Laughing, I depart to the shower, turning to look at Dean checking the cupboards.

**?_?**

Dean's head is still down and through the blood in his mouth, syllables are strung together painfully. Incoherent. My mind fills with panic and...and grief. NO! I am not going to lose him. I won't! I refuse to watch him die! "Dean you're gonna be fine. Yeah? I'll take you to the hospital, there'll be cute nurses when you wake up..." I pull his head back cautiously away from my shoulder and pat his cheek. "Dean?"

"S..." he mumbles.

_Dear God, please keep Dean alive. I can't live without him..._

**?_?**

I swallow in a gulp of air - something is off about this case. "We'll save them right?" I question peering over the masses of papers that cover the beaten down table. Mentally I go over the patterns, making sure that it all makes sense. There is no room for error...if there was then both me and Dean would be dead - many times over.

"Yeah," Dean responds, "I mean look." He shuffles and searches under the papers and pulls out a map. Silently I watch him. His swift movements are accurate, graceful...freaking deadly. He points to the map and stares at me as I study it. His green eyes burn through the side of my head. "There's no doubt. We just go to stake out some suburban house and catch it."

_Ok, I'm convinced. _"You got penalty of silver bullets?" I ask laying down the gun and rag.

"Duh," he says pointing at the bed. I roll my eyes and smirk. Dean continues to glare at me. It was just a simple question!

"All it takes is one shot to the heart." He has his hunting smile on. The one where he knows the fugly bastard's going down and out, while we escape, maybe within an inch of our lives.

**?_?**

So much noise now. The silence was there, it was thick and uncomfortable. Now everything is happening at once, all fighting to be heard. I think I preferred the silence. I can't hear Dean, he might not even be in the room but this needs to end now.

"One shot to the heart!" I yell out blindly...this damn thing better die!

**?_?**

It's been so long since I've thought of Jess. It's a welcome change to the other horrible thoughts that have been impeding my mind. Her blond hair, her beautiful eyes...the ceiling...

"Shit! The house is on fire!"

...the fire?!

I jump awake and see the nursery bathed in a red, orangey light. Smoke billows out of the open window. I whip my head and Dean does the same. His green eyes meet mine and we prepare to go in.

I don't want to be here again. This position. The fire, the ceiling...why is it the nursery, a place of innocence? It's just my luck. It's the Winchester luck and me and Dean are about to go in the Winchester way.

Guns drawn, in front of us. Agile movements and steps, crisscrossing the lawn until we reach the door. He gives me a look and then I kick in the door angrily. Dean steps in but doesn't get far. I scoot in behind and see what stops him.

A snarling, gnashing, hideous creature of the night. A creature with no soul or mercy. _Why this? _The glint of her pearls, the swirl of her dress. It paints a pretty picture until you see the snout. The jaws with the razor sharp teeth, she carries the eyes of the dead. Her hair is pushed back away from her forehead. The red mane of her curls are partially replaced with thick tufts of coarse hair.

She bends her legs slightly, the werewolf ready to rip out our throats in one effortless motion. Her fingers twitch, long pointy nails ready to claw out our hearts.

Dean looks down at the husband. The gash on his temple plunges him in and out of consciousness but manages to mouth 'upstairs'.

A shriek upstairs forces me to run. I don't wait to see what Dean is doing, he's about to have his own problems.

I continue to barrel forward and disappear into the room towards the end of the corridor. Inside the walls are painted with clowns of all kinds. If this were any normal situation, I'd scream and run away (if no one was around of course...especially Dean), but my feelings towards the hideous monsters take a back seat as I shush the child and gather her in my arms.

I run down stairs carefully and cover her mouth as best I can so the burning smoke doesn't get into her little lungs. She is quiet and looks at me in panic. Her blue eyes are still swimming amongst tears and her mouth in a little 'O'.

Dean turns around just as I make it to the floor. "Get the child out!" He runs past with the werewolf on his tail and instinctively I hide the child in the crook of my elbow while running out. I place her as far away from the house as possible on the lawn and run back in to help Dean.

Dean is on the floor shaking something off. Blood seeps from his body but I don't know where and I can't help him yet otherwise we'll both be dead. I move in and corner her. I aim my gun and pull. My balance is tipped as the husband, tackles me as best he can. _Do you want to be saved or not!_

I shake him to the ground and aim again quickly. From the corner of my eye Dean does the same and a small hint of satisfaction crosses both our minds as two bullet holes enter the creature's chest. I feel a pang of guilt, but throw the thought away, at the moment; I did my job and saved the husband- ungrateful son of a bitch. I had to hit him in the head.

But Dean! I rush over to his side and drag him out of the fire. Part of me finds this slightly ironic. Dean is heavy like a lead weight, the pallor of his skin is worrying and his breathing is decreasing slowly.

"I'm so sorry...Dean...It will be okay."

"'S'not your fault," he murmurs. I barely catch the last part as he whispers to himself. I continue to whisper my reassurances, not only for the sake of him. But for the sake of me as well. He has to be okay. He's kept me alive and been the most important person in my life since I can remember.

"You're going to make it." I squeeze him tighter and close my eyes as I sit on the lawn with him cradled in my arms.

**?_?**

We made it (Dean knew that we would). He's unconscious, lying still in the hospital bed. I think he's getting better. There is some colour in his cheeks and he can breathe by himself. My pacing is annoying people. I can tell. Every time a nurse or doctor comes in and sees me standing up walking around they sigh and give me a look. _It's not like I'm wearing a hole in the carpet!_

Touch and go. That's what they had told me when describing Dean's current condition. "Tests, follow-ups." And then the million dollar question. "How did he get shot?"

I play my so called 'puppy dog eyes' and tear up slightly with concern. Of course the concern is real, just not the tears.

The continuous short bursts of beeping machines are like a life line to me. If it was in one continuous beep, my legs wouldn't be holding me up and my own personal 'Hell on earth' would begin.

"Dean?" I whisper. I stroke his forehead and then walk back to the window. Taking my place in the metal chair that is bolted to the floor. What do they expect? Like we're so gonna take the chair on our way out? Dean's finger twitches and I bolt up. It calms again and I have to remind myself that it's just a reflex. Standing I begin to talk. "I'm so sorry...I don't even know if you're listening-"

"S'm..." His voice is hoarse and he sounds tired, but he's alive! I jump to the bedside.

"Dean!"

He attempts to crack open an eye, squinting as the harsh white light of the hospital room burns his eyes. I move my head to block it out. I can imagine the smart remark, _'Knew your giant skull was good for something_!' being said, not to being me down of course, more like a sign of brotherly affection. I breathe my sigh of relief reflecting on the current status of our perilous lives. One or the other, always one or the other.

"Gonna be okay, Sam_," liar_, he's right though, it's going to be okay. He'll be back to his smart ass self. Me riding shotgun listening to his deafening music as he beats the steering wheel in time.

This is going to be short lived though. When the next hunt rolls around...

...Which one of us is going to be in the hospital bed?

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AN: Hope this wasn't hard to follow. Like I said check out her version because it's awesome. Leave reviews. Scare4irony


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